Talking to the Reaper
by slimingmywaytoheaven
Summary: The organization knows Clare is alive, and they've figured out she can be a use to them. All that's left is to capture her, keep her, and convince her of one thing. As the only living witnessess to the life of Teresa, that's where Noel and Sophia come in.
1. Pasts Come Knocking

I now have 3 ongoing fanfictions, so updates are going to be slow, once every few weeks, probably. Anyhow, expect some extensive plotting in this one, bad though it may be. ;D Why am I writing with two characters that showed up for ten minutes in the Teresa saga? Because I love them. Other than Teresa they're perhaps my favorite characters. That, and I can't stand to look at Irene and Teresa fics anymore without going crazy. I'm obviously not a big enough shoujo-ai fan, but I just don't see it. These two, however, I can see. They're so OTP. Why they had to die, I don't know, but MAYBE under some miracle they lived? xD I know it's very near COMPLETELY impossible because they got stabbed heart/head, but it's a fanfic, give me a break. BD

Edit: Hamstadini has brought it to my attention that the above makes this seem like I'm going to write it as a shoujo-ai. I'm NOT. You won't see any 'pairings' in this, beyond what you can drag, stab, pull, and mutilate into existance. I won't be writing Sophia and Noel as anything more than extremely talented (and argumentative) partners in crime, so to speak. If you want to imagine them as a 'romantic' couple go for it. I'll consider them more like fighting siblings that are loyal to each other in the end when I write.

Okay, enough of my rambling. Enjoy. 3

- - - - - - - - - - -

"Don't you ever shut up?" Noel hissed, arching up and over her nearest fallen opponent and landing with a snap, now back to back with a longer haired Claymore. The hilt of her sword instinctively raised to her heart, silver eyes scanning the intruding landscape.

"Hmm. . . no," her partner answered with a chuckle, thrusting her weapon forwards and through the gut of a foolish yoma that had ventured to close. She twisted her arm and pulled back, blood smearing down the shining blade. Above them the moon shone gently, poking its head between the clouds that drifted about and sent a bitter chill through the air.

An eerie glow fell on the two of them then, the light strange as it glistened among the wetness of the floating watery world in the sky. It split apart in the overhead trees and filled their world randomly, sending them in and out of darkness with the swaying voice of the wind. "I think I won this one," Noel said, stepping away to replace her sword in its rightful place: Close to her back, where it belonged.

"Nonsense, Noel, you lost like last time, and the time before." Sophia tapped her chin. "In fact, I think. If I recall correctly, you've never won once."

Noel gave her a shocked expression but quickly changed it to angry distaste. "Clearly your memory has gone to hell in your old age." She flicked her wrist passively, putting emphasis on her statement.

"The only one going to hell is you, Noel," Sophia said, turning her sword on the other with quick deliberation. A coy grin spread maliciously across her face and she swung the blade dangerously near. Noel, however, quickly evaded her potential death with a quick step backwards.

"How can you win if you're so slow, eeehhh!?" Noel chided, dodging swing after swing. She could feel the soft air caress her face as Sophia's blade past close time and time again. The attack turned into a rhythm, and Noel found she could time each stroke of the sword, listen to Sophia's rapid breathing as she tried time and time to again to hit with no avail. It turned into a sort of dance, one that only the nymphs of the night could perform. She went as far as to close her eyes, listening to the whining sound such a blade created and honing her skills to keep a safe distance. It proved to be too difficult, she decided, as a sharp edge caught a straying arm.

"Hah, tiring, Noel?" Sophia said, her grin widening as she quickly drew the blade back for a final unslaught.

"Shh!" the other Claymore hissed, her eyes widened and focused on something in the brush. Sophia's blade halted midswing, her gaze on Noel in confusion. Slowly, but surely she turned to look, her blade still posed oddly midway.

"Come out, little watcher," Noel growled, taking a step forwards and nearly running herself through with the blade of Sophia's weapon. She gingerly pushed it a way with an annoyed look that said, 'Put that away, you're clumsiness is going to hurt someone!' and then slid her way gently to a tree. She cooed out in the direction she'd heard the disturbance, tapping her fingers lightly on the bark of a tree. "We knoooowwww you're out there," she chided again, laughing hysterically as she leaned against the strength of the tree. In a blur she came to be on the other side, her fingers reaching out to snatch up the spy.

Her prize quivered and twitched, hissing, snarling and biting frantically as she brought it around the other side. "I brought you a present, Sophia!" she beamed, shaking the item lightly so as to make it fight all the more furiously. "I think it bites."

"Trying to hide as a little boy, neh?" Sophia answered with a smirk, leaning down and circling Noel so she could get a better view of their latest material item.

"Claymore filth!" it growled and spat, the soft features of a child stretching and distorting to reveal a gross creature that appeared to be made of blood and decaying flesh. Quite simply, a yoma.

"I didn't know they had young," Noel remarked snidely, swaying the victim side to side with a small movement from her arm. It hissed, and flung itself upwards and onto her arm, biting and clawing its way into her flesh. "Ow, you little bitch!" she snapped, jerking her elbow to dislodge the yoma. It landed with a soft squish on the ground where she pinned its tiny head with the tip of her toe. "I wouldn't recommend trying that again."

"Of course they do, everything has to breed," Sophia answered Noel's first comment. She stood and folded her arms one over another. She seemed content to let Noel attempt to squeeze its brains through its ears.

"Let's do that thing that humans do to it!" Noel grinned mischievously, lifting her foot and kicking it so it rolled pathetically a few feet. She pounced on it and tightened her hands around its neck, watching it writhe and gasp for breath. "Squirm like a worm, little fucker. I'm going to kill you, _slowly_."

"You mean questioning?" Sophia asked, stepping to Noel's side and stabbing her Claymore into the earth behind the yoma's head. It squeaked and protested, but refused to speak anymore. "It sounds like a girl," Sophia noted dryly. "Or it likes men." She chuckled at her own joke, and twisted the hilt of her weapon so it produced a gut wrenching squeal as it strained against the hold of the earth. "Not unlike that."

"Oi, cut it out, Sophia!" Noel protested, her hands instinctively going to her ears. "Or I'll smash your head down there, too."

"With those piddle arms?!" She laughed, cold and hard, receiving only an annoyed look from Noel.

"They're slender and athletic."

The sounds of the two bickering were perhaps a worse punishment than the death that Noel was sure to dish out. "You have parents little bugger?" Noel pestered it, poking it with the tip of her toe.

"Noel, we've killed them," Sophia said with a sigh and a roll of her eyes towards the sky.

Noel took a glance at their surroundings riddled with the bodies of yoma and their remains. A smirk crossed over her lips, and she put her hands on her hips smugly. "Aye, you're right. Bastards had it coming, eh, number five?"

"Not anymore, Noel, we have no number. Besides, I was number four." Sophia unearthed her Claymore once more, swinging it with her right arm to pass the time.

"Nuh-uh," the other argued. "I asked, they said I was number four."

"It was a dream, you told me about it," Sophia corrected, tossing the sword up and leaping out of the way as it came down head first.

"Hah! Clumsy!"

The thing decided at this point it would be wise to escape. Unfortunately, neither Noel or Sophia were paying _that_ much attention to each other, and it took them no time at all to replace it back in its former position.

"Going somewhere without us? I'm hurt," Sophia cooed to it. "Tell me, do you like revenge, small one? Do yoma burn and crave and rage until it bubbles out their mouth in the same way your inner grime will once I bash your head into fragments? Do you know how many of your kin I have killed? Perhaps your cousin lies within me, helping me kill all those you shared a gut eating festival with?"

"Ooo! Clever, Sophia," Noel chuckled, clapping her companion on the back and leaning down to consume the yoma with the look in her eyes.

"Yoma have no kin!" it growled, slashing out with its claws towards they eyes of Noel. The Claymore jerked backwards in response and let out a cry of anger, using her feet to release her upset on the youthful monster.

"It would seem we've upset it," Sophia said, clearly amused at Noel's lack of control over the tyke.

"You are cruel."

A moment's pause caused silence to spread a haze through the woods. Sophia and Noel turned slowly together, disbelief on their faces. For there, hidden within the shadows was a creature they thought they'd dismissed long, long ago. It was cloaked in back, its voice distinctly male, but its gender and race unknown.

"Organization man," Noel echoed softly, her mouth subconsciously closing as she swallowed. She quickly regained her composure, covering her nervousness with anger. "What do you want!?" she demanded, her fingers clenching into a fist.

"Tch, so to the point. Aren't you happy to see me?" The glint of white teeth could be seen underneath the shadowed cloak. It left shivers running down both of their spines. "You didn't think running so far away would keep us from you forever? We simply had no reason to follow."

"And now you do," Sophia deduced, her jaw clenching.

"That's right. You're going to help us bring Teresa back to the living."

Behind them, the sounds of their captive escaping reached their ears, but neither paid mind for they were busy trying to determined whether or not they'd heard wrong.


	2. Why Us?

I have committed a writer's sin. Don't anybody count how many times I used the word 'blade' in the last chapter. You'll make yourself sick. It was _definitely_ over three. I should be shot.

Anywho, on to review responses:

Hamstadini: Thanks for that bit of info on the two of them. I found that most of the forums assessed them as being dead, but most had watched the anime, and many of those were certain that Ileana was also deceased, so it really was a toss-up. Sorry if I mislead you into thinking this was some sort of romance enlaced shoujo-ai, and I hope I haven't chased you away. I've read your latest Claymore fic and loved it, though I'm not too fond of Priscilla, you did a good job sparking a teeny bit of remorse for her position.

Stringer13: Thank you, them meeting Clare would certainly prove interesting, especially with my dread of writing her character. Sounds like I'm going to have to read a huge chunk of manga again!

Haxan: It's wonderful to know that you enjoy such a broad spectrum! There are so many good writers out there that get cast aside because it's not the genre that most people crave. I do hope you continue to enjoy this as much as I am writing it. Thanks for the review! It's very much appreciated.

Defiledone: I'm not sure how many reviews Claymore novels typically get, but I was amazed at how fast the reviews DID come in. It's great to know there are more people that wish to read my stories. I hope I don't disappoint you with this next chapter. Enjoy!

And to everyone who reviewed: Really, thanks SO much for the input. I thrive off of what people think, and you have all really inspired me to keep writing.

- - - -

Two pairs of silver eyes remained frozen under the pale light of the moon. They lay set on a form only seconds away, which seemed unconcerned by their watchful gaze. It, as it would be better be known, was covered from head to toe in a thick black cloth. It had been worn down and the ends frayed in various places, but these imperfections appeared recent. The curlier haired of the two surmised that it they had been caused by its long journey to where they'd eventually been found.

The crackle of an orange flame separated them, dancing its way about their faces, begging for some sort of speech to take place. It slid down the metal of two claymores held rigid in the ground, supporting the backs of their wielders. Sophia could feel the light touch of Noel's shoulder blades against her own. The warm feeling meant safety, trust, and life. Without it, the world's cold grasp would choke the air from her throat and freeze the water in her blood. Noel's world contradicted Sophia's. It was on fire, raging and bubbling within that other's heart until it forced itself out in bouts of fury.

Yet, even the presence of the other was enough to numb both their bodies to feel nothing. The feeling known by the name of alone crept under their fingernails and slid under the surface of the skin, until they breathed it out so the process could repeat again. Neither could bring themselves to speak, nor could they silence the questions shoving against their skulls until the pressure became nearly too much to bear. White mist rose in front of their mouths, and Noel subconsciously drew a furred overcoat tighter around her shoulders. Though the movement was slight it was enough to break the spell that had settled.

"I believe you have some questions to answer," Sophia said, looking away towards her feet. Unlike Noel, she was content to freeze in the bitter cold. Only the garb of the Claymore covered her body, and Sophia could feel a prickle creep in her fingers where valuable heat escaped to be lost forever. The earth around them was a frozen landscape illuminated by the harsh gaze of the moon. It appeared fresher and cleaner than mortally possible, but the bite of the wind reminded them both that appearances were only there to confuse the foolish to venture out into the night.

They had its attention now, or some of it. "Oh?" it played dumb. The three of them knew full well the questions on one another's minds. It was the game of 'who would say it first, and give in'. They were playing a giant game of seek, hide, and eventually, kill. Whose death would wrought the ground with pestilence?

"You assume we have something left to live for," Sophia continued, biting her tongue. In her mind's eye, her own blood splattered across the paling white of her flesh. She could feel Noel's attention focused on her, no doubt cursing her out. "It's the play of the organization, is it not? Find them when they have a will to live, and give them a purpose. It becomes fighting, the lustful joy that comes only from the smell of death. Even killing one another becomes a sickening game we crave. Until we lose all sight of the yoma or human within in us and live for only the organization's wills. Isn't that right Noel?"

Sophia could feel the air get warmer and she allowed her lips to curl only slightly, imagining what the monkey was thinking. 'Who are you to drag me into this?' They both knew it was a battle they couldn't win, but they'd fight it all the same. Until the blood and sweat became so thickly packed they could taste it through their skin.

"I can't recall how I became Noel," her friend started. The air began to toss and turn around them. The trees howled their discontent, moaning with each passing voice. "There are memories of pain, and love, I think, yes very vaguely I can recall such an emotion. But mostly, mostly, I remember my first fight. Every sting."

Sophia wanted to say, 'You lose that one, too?', but she couldn't resort to mental battering now. They had to focus on the topic at hand, which involved cutting the shadows from this man until he begged to answer their questions. Begged. She would settle for nothing less.

"Not, I, no. I don't remember my first fight, or in fact any fight. Only the first sunrise, when I finally opened my eyes. Today, I remember the day I died."

There a reaction. In fact, their cloaked companion even stirred and rose. "We can arrange for you to be killed now, if you wish." They were the first words the three had spoken to each other since Noel's prize had escaped, and it was exactly what Sophia wanted.

"I think, that I may be able to find something to live for again," Sophia practically purred, brushing a stray strand of hair from her eyes. "If the organization wills it, that is."

Noel could have puked. "Very well," the voice of their silent captor finally relented. "You remember Clare, do you not?" Sophia, nodded, and behind her she could feel Noel do the same. "And Teresa?"

The sound of Noel's laughter snapped with the cracking flames. "How could we not?" Was it not their purpose for being here? To resurrect her dead flesh?

"Clare took on Teresa's flesh."

Sophia and Noel hit the phase of shock at the same time. Clare being alive was one thing, but he was suggesting a repetition of a manhunt that they didn't wish to engage in again. Neither one wanted to face anyone who could have taken on the body of that goddess of war, let alone when it inhabited the body of a girl who was no doubt seething for revenge. The question then became, 'Why couldn't they send someone else to hunt them?'

"Ileana is dead." Noel spoke the words first. That made them the only people left capable of recalling and doing something with the knowledge of Teresa's existence. Did the organization simply wish their faces to twist in agony as they recalled past events? No. There had to be a far deeper issue that they could not grasp, and the organization must have discovered it recently. "You're going to use Clare's body to resurrect Teresa. It's obvious, but what's not, is why you need _us_."

Sophia remained quiet, the wheels in her head turning. The answer was right there in front of her, but every time she reached out to grasp it, something tore it away, sending it sprawling into oblivion. "It's quite simple," it said, its mannerism frank. "You're the only ones that can find Clare."

The escaping answer was caught in between Sophia's fingers. Clare had two types of yoma energy: Her own, and Teresa's. Noel and Sophia, in theory, were the only ones that could read the remaining energy of the dead, who may not have been deceased at all. He left them, then, sure that he'd had their attention and their allegiance. Noel cursed under her breath and turned heatedly on Sophia, but was quickly silenced.

"That's not the full story. They need us for something else, too. Anyone can hunt down a person. You don't need to read energy for that." Noel inquired her quietly, but asked no further questions. There was a pressing urge to solve a curiosity that should have died when they'd left the organization. They had no love for Clare or Teresa, and so going about the task was simply a matter of following orders. Wasn't it?


	3. Tenseful Voyage

Author's Note: Oh my goodness. I feel like a complete btch. I haven't updated this in MONTHS, but I've been thinking about it nearly every day. I think I have the next section completely fleshed out now. To be truthful, I was afraid to continue before I'd done so. Blame it on paranoia given to me by friends.

BlackSakuyamon: Thanks so much. I try my best to write well, and I'm glad to know it's working. Your reviews really keep me going, even if it is extremely late. I apologize heavily for this.

Haxan: No, they're not, are they? Unfortunately, the organization is no fool, either. It makes for nasty dilemmas.

Again, sorry for the severe delay. Please enjoy.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Sophia wrinkled her nose in disgust, but offered no other emotion as to their current task at hand.

Striding proudly to her left, Noel bore a wide grin. Her eyes were dark and black, though her blanch hair was shrouded, for the most part, beneath a grayed hood. The sun took lightly to her companion's shoes, flashing Sophia in the eyes with each resounding _clink_.

It would seem as though the bright, fresh air had brightened her spirits. Then again, Sophia knew of only two sides to Noel: angry and overzealous.

Beneath her own garb, Sophia's muscled tightened. She reached her fingers up and gently closed it around the rough cloth, forcefully dragging it farther forwards over her head. Her eyes slide in their sockets, unable to look at the white teeth of Noel any longer. She seemed almost _happy_ to be going back. Sophia herself had considered this a death sentence. It was no lie when she'd said there might be something to live for. Clearly Noel had lost it once more, or had never found it to begin with.

"Save your energy," Sophia said through gritted teeth. Her tension was uncharacteristic, and it caused the air around them to churn.

"Wha- Why?" Noel balked, her other emotion shining through quite clearly.

"We won't be eating for weeks," Sophia answered, her voice brought down to a more toned level once more.

"We go without food frequently," Noel answered, the sound of shifting cloth reaching Sophia's ears as her counterpart shrugged.

Sophia let it slide. There was no convincing Noel of the pure desperation in this matter. If she wanted to suffer, so be it. They were Claymore's once again, and she could no longer afford to look out for the other. Her eyes to the ground and her footfalls steady, Sophia fell into a rhythmic step behind Noel. The traditionally silver-eyed witch seemed more than happy with the arrangements and went so far as to pick up the pace.

Until one very old looking man stopped them in their tracks. His eyes were covered in grizzly sweat and grime. His eyebrows were bushy and long, and overshadowed his tiny pupils and wrinkled face. Other than that, he seemed to lack hair at all, but the wrinkle in his brow showed he was discontent with the current standings.

"Where a' ye ladies headin', hnn?" he gruffed.

Noel stopped, her mouth half open. With part disgust, and part shock, she answered. "Kindly move aside, sir."

Sophia took a few more strides before pausing herself. When humans interfered, it became interesting. There was a limit to just what they could do before it became pressing matters. Two months ago, they would not have cared, but now they had rules to follow once again. Sophia's throat hardened.

"Woman such a' ye folk ain' suppose' te be ridin' 'em ships." There was an extra curl the man's smile. "Bad luck."

It was a pathetic explanation at best. So, Sophia decided to be rid of the situation once and for all. With practiced ease she tossed her head back, letting her shroud fall to her shoulders. She glared towards the intrusive being, letting him get a good look at his eyes.

"There are yoma on this vessel," she answered him with a flash of her teeth. He seemed speechless at first, before the grinding of molars could be heard. The townspeople froze in their tasks, fish squirming in partially raised nets, and children winding around the unexpectedly still bodies of their parents. A poor soul standing on aging wood fell through the planks with a violent cracking sound. The still air broken, people began to move again, the man shifting out of the way.

She'd thought so.

With a valiant step forwards she now took the lead. She and a disgruntled Noel made their way down the wooden dock to a crude ramp. It stretched a good distance, but nothing insurmountable. One good leap would land them on the dock of the medium ship, no aid required. Its sails had been hitched, and their grey forms flapped silently in the growing wind. Most of the crew – and those passengers that weren't hiding – watched them mixed fear and interest. Sophia tried not to return the favor. She would have liked it better if they had travelled by foot, but the sea had been a much quicker alternative to the route they had taken to get to their far off sanctuary.

Once on board, people parted left and right for them, exchanging rumors. 'I didn't think there were any yoma in these parts'. 'Are they just going to get the job done and go?' 'Are they going to stay?' 'What are they doing here?'

She paid no mind to these bitter protests of her presence. Her current task was to find the hold and stay there until the trip was over. Hiding from the foolish, bickering groups of pure-bloods was the best option. Increasing the pace a touch, she made her way aftwards, the gentle sway of the vessel calming her nerves. Noel followed suit, her form disappearing for a moment as Sophia rounded a corner and descended into the dark. It smelled of damp earth and mold, among a number of other far less pleasant scents. Sea faring objects were quite vile.

"Here," she announced, grasping the rusted iron of a small chamber and jerking it open. The room was high enough to stand in, but little else. To hammocks swung, one atop the other, the grind of metal against metal filling the whole compartment. If they tried, both of them could squeeze side by side in the open space between the side of the ship and the door. Sophia's expression was platonic. Noel had been spoiled by wide open forests, and she took the sleeping quarters far less well.

"How long?" she asked, attempting to burn it with her eyes.

"One month." If all went well.

"Geh," Noel grunted, ripping her cloak from atop her head. Sophia wasn't sure why she'd bothered to keep it on.

"The effects haven't worn off yet," she noted with a look towards the witch's still dark eyes.

"Yes, thank you for blowing our cover and making it completely useless." They had agreed that one would go under the influence, and the other would remain in full body in the slight off-chance that something unexpected came. A fable could easily be made up for one of them, leprosy they'd eventually decided. Two cloaked figures that refused to reveal their face, however, was something the public would not take kindly to.

"It ended up being unnecessary," Sophia answered. The trip was going to be more painful than lying for hours on end if their tensions were already this high. Is that what they'd felt all the time as warriors for the organization? This guttural hate for the one next to you, a competition that was no longer friendly but simply meant for surviving. Surely they'd chided before they'd broken ties, but only when they'd left had it truly turned to joking.

"Well," Noel chipped, breaking the silence that had stretched between them. "I claim top bunk." In the effortless enthusiasm that should have only come from a child, she was rid of both cloak and Claymore. Stirred by this sudden overjoyed nature, Sophia quietly adjusted both into a neat pile in their dwindled space. She worked her way into the room and shut the door, clicking the lock.

"Sophia," Noel's voice ventured in her direction.

"Hmm?"

"I can't see anything."

"Right." There was a dull swiping sound and the small glow of a flame sharply lit their surroundings. Her face illuminated by the small source of light, Sophia fumbled slowly with a lantern fastened safely to the wall. After a few unsuccessful tries, and some burnt fingers, Sophia successfully set their room aglow.

Noel had already settled herself on the swinging canvas, her eyes staring at the ceiling. Her feet were bare, though her shoulders were still clad in orange-shining metal.

"You're going to get sore sleeping like that," Sophia told her, taking the time to slowly unfasten her own cloak instead of ripping it carelessly away.

"I prefer to be ready for the yoma we're going to be battling on this sturdy craft," Noel replied sarcastically.

Sophia had no choice but to grin.

"Turn off that light, I'm tired," Noel added. Sophia looked up in her direction, and half-snorted.

"You're a softie. You need light to get undressed, and you can't sleep while it's on. Next you'll need a soft mattress to sleep on, and then somebody to wash your feet."

This time it was Noel's term to scoff. "My feet are perfectly clean," she answered, and Sophia heard the hammock creak as she blew out the light.

Blind, but not hindered, she settled herself against the hardness of the floor and the knowing comfort of a Claymore at her back. Perhaps Noel had grown accustomed to a better standard of living, but Sophia had found she could not. Letting her thoughts spin around in her head, she attempted to claim as much sleep as she could. It was the one thing she was allowed plenty of on this venture.

-

There was a loud bang, and something smacked up against her leg. Sophia snapped her eyes open, searching the emptiness for what had caused it.

"Fuck." Noel's voice was startlingly close. In fact, right above her. "Sophia, why are you on the ground?" She heard fumbling, and Noel shifted again, her feet finding it hard to stand with Sophia's legs in the way. "How do you work this crazy lock!?" She almost sounded panicked, but it wasn't worrying Sophia, yet.

"Turn it," she answered with a lazy smile.

"Oh shut up, you bitch, I know you turn it!" The lock snapped and a dim blue light came floating through, while Noel flitted out the other side. Well, flitted was hardly the word. It was more of a drunken stumble. Noel gave a little groan and disappeared around the corner.

Now Sophia was starting to get worried. No, not worried. Interested. She stood slowly, finding various elements to look at. The lantern that she'd blown out the night previous, Noel's still swinging bed, and the folded cloaks in the corner. Shrugging lightly, Sophia took hers and drug it over her head, finally slipping out their prison and after Noel.

She found her at the very front of the ship, chumming the fish of all things. Sophia found it hard pressed to keep her composure after that. Luckily for her ego, most of the world seemed to be asleep; the ship was on auto-steer for a time. The ship's crew was exceptionally lazy.

"I feel like shit," Noel grouched. "And don't you comment," she snapped towards Sophia's approaching footsteps. Sophia's grin broadened, and it was a good thing that Noel could not see it.

"Try releasing y-"

"Don't you think I've already tried that!?" Noel turned to her, her hair in coils around her face and a wild desperation in her eyes. It was almost unnerving. Her brows were furrowed together, creating a deep groove above her eyes. Her lips, too, were pursed, and they had a slight sheen to them. What Sophia noticed most, however, is that they still retained their dark coloring.

"You're yoma energy must be weak if you're still under," Sophia chided, leaning on the wooden siding of the ship to watch Noel struggle.

She heard her partner cough and spit, then cough some more. "Do you enjoy my misery?" Noel snapped, but could complain no further as another episode wracked her body. Sophia, in all actually, wasn't sure. It did not bother her to watch, but she wasn't sure she'd wish it to keep up, either. She shrugged in response.

"The sea creatures are happy for your contribution," she answered.

"To hell they are."

Noel's suffering lasted only a short time. She only had to endure a few more chides from Sophia before relief finally came crawling back over her features. It was a slow process, but Sophia watched Noel slowly become more alert and less angry. It was replaced by a tired nature, until an exhausted woman slumped from her tight clench on the side of the ship to a resting her back against it. Noel opened her eyes and regarded Sophia carefully. They were gold in color, a rare sight coming from the warrior. Sophia blinked once at this discovery, before following suit and also taking a seat.

Neither one of them spoke for a time. Only the groaning from within the ship kept them company.

"Who is the organization kidding?" Noel spoke at last, her gaze transfixed at a winding rope on the front-most mast.

Sophia turned to address her, and then thought better of it. She chose her subject to be the silver highlighted cloud in the dark sky beyond. "The organization is very serious."

"Teresa's reincarnate is not one to be trifled with," Noel continued. When Ileana had spoken of there being two powers, one far stronger than the other, it had become clear how much of a menace Teresa had become. By all right, that battle had belonged to her, but she'd let her guard down. All for little Clare, in hopes she wouldn't end up with the same bitter fate. Look where she is now, Teresa of the Faint Smile, Sophia smirked in her head, shaking it lightly. "Are you listening?" Apparently Noel had drabbled on, and Sophia hadn't caught a bit of it.

"Whether or not she's like Teresa is unknown. She could be more powerful, or far less." The fact was, they didn't know. They're best bet was to expect for the worst, but would overplanning cost them as well?

Noel grunted. Sophia looked on.

"That new warrior, what was her name. . . Priscilla," Noel continued. "Won by mistake. By fraud. By cheating."

"No," Sophia interjected. "She won by mental strategy." Whether or not she had truly wished to die in those moments was very difficult to say, but had it been her plan all along she was a very sick and twisted individual indeed. An awakened being that was still in the world somewhere.

"Mental strategy. . ." Noel repeated.

Sophia watched her silvery topic twist and contort into some sort of building. Her memory told her she'd seen it before, but she couldn't quite place it. It felt so important.

"We have twenty-nine more days," Sophia spoke again, rising to her feet. She offered a hand to Noel and got a glare in return. The woman with slits for eyes made it to her feet on her own.

-

They'd spotted land early that morning. Rather, the screw had spotted it, and Sophia had caught the shadowed whispers travelling through the halls and repeated the information. Noel was tired, aggravated, but mostly she was unbearably hungry. The food hear was something even she would touch, and she'd ignored Sophia when she'd been told to consume what she could before it got worse. Noel insisted she'd be fine, and now she was regretting the decision.

Closing her eyes tighter she shifted against her heavy metal weapon upon waiting for Sophia to return. The bed had left sores on her arms, legs, and back. Nothing that couldn't be healed quickly, but with her current lack of food Noel didn't want to try. She merely grinned and bore the pain, with heavy emphasis on 'bore' and little to none on 'grinned'. They'd agreed to switch between the floor and the hammock after finding there was not enough room for both of them to sandwich together in their cramped space. Noel had decided that practically sitting on Sophia's lap did not fit her comfort level or her pride. She'd just deal with the horrible swinging cloth now and then.

A gentle tap echoed on the door before it began to open slowly. Noel was on her feet in a flash, her hands coiled tightly around the hilt of her weapon. Sophia's head appeared around the doorway.

"Since when do you knock?" Noel huffed, her alarm fading as she tried to find a comfortable position once more. Something about the air felt different as Sophia came in, and it aggravated her. Her fellow mixblood lit the lantern before encasing them in darkness. It was about time she figured it out.

The air around her changed again. The candle flickered, and Noel tried to watch it. Her anger at the situation intensified as her senses tingled, feelings becoming stronger and then dimming once again.

"Whatever you're doing, stop it." Noel made her upset clear in her voice, and leaned back farther as her stomach gave a horrible pang to remind her it needed food.

"I don't know what you're talking about," came her answer. The anger in Noel's face rose, and her jaw clenched as everything began to shift and change once again. "You're not getting sick again, are you?"

Then Noel figured out what it was. "You're fluxing your yoma energy."

"Don't be silly." Sophia's expression was mild.

"Stop playing games, Sophia." Her voice was becoming far harsher than she intended.

"Maybe you're going crazy, Noel. Maybe, you've lost your warrior arc."

"Sophia, cut the crap this in. . ." she trailed off and her eyes widened. Sophia smiled at her lightly and leaned back against the wood enclosure, her head nearly butting up against their light source.

"Noel, your yoma energy is changing rapidly," Sophia warned.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sophia."

They both grinned, and closed their eyes to wait for the moment they could get off this cursed vessel. One standing, the other sitting, but both with one ail relieved. They had a plan.


End file.
